


Dissimulate

by Cear_IK



Series: UnderErased [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Self-Hatred, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cear_IK/pseuds/Cear_IK
Summary: Dissimulate:verb; conceal or disguise (one's thoughts, feelings, or character).Morgue likes to disappear every once in a while. She does so after a fight, and when she comes back, she shuts herself in her room for an extended amount of time. Naturally, her housemates are worried by this behavior, so as one of the few skeletons aware of both her... 'abilities' and her nihilistic tendencies, Comic is sent to check in on her. What he finds is... worrisome, and pisses him off. Again. One of these days, he, the patient soul, is actually going to blow his top on her-afterhe finishes making sure she doesn't actually end up killing herself first.In which Comic's point of view on the going-ons is explored a bit more, and a bit more world-building is done.





	Dissimulate

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Title: "... kiddo? ... aw shit."
> 
> I didn't write this out before-hand like I usually do, so please let me know if there are any issues please (grammar, spelling, etc.)
> 
> Also, apologies about the randomness of these updates, I do have continuations to "Karmic Terror" and "Automatic No-Mercy Response" somewhere on the backburners. I've ended up posting fragments on my tumblr in order to refrain from posting on AO3 until I have a completed chapter/fic.... thing. In the meantime, these serve (or start) as vent pieces. Probably why Morgue has yet to experience a true fluff moment. Another problem has been drawing this picture:  
> http://cear-ik.tumblr.com/post/160537784233/justice-hall-or-whats-left-of-it-with-the  
> The demon picture that has been taking all my free time.
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cear-ik
> 
>  **Names:**  
>  "HUMAN" - Classic Papyrus (Rus)  
> "more" - Classic Sans (Comic)  
> "emm" - Swap Papyrus (Stretch)  
> "MORGUE" - Swap Sans (Blueberry)  
>  **"emmy"** \- Fell Sans (Red)  
>  **"MORGUE"** \- Fell Papyrus (Edge)

Sans knocked on Morgue's door. The door was plain and unmarked- practically a rarity in the household. It used to belong to the guestroom, but now that room was Morgue's. The door remained unmarked, though, on Morgue's insistence that her presence in the house was temporary. Not like she hadn't been crashing at the Skeleton House for months now. Morgue was just like that, though. At times the girl (who was really a woman, Sans reminded himself) was remarkably self-assured, almost cocky, and most assuredly arrogant. At others, she was a self-hating nihilistic mess. But that's what happened when someone broke, he guessed. He had only been living with her for months - had known her little more than a year, really - but he already knew from several of her issues that one of the driving forces of her personality was her self-hatred. After all, he had once been in a similar headspace. It was one of the reasons he had shortened her given name, turning something negative into something positive.

"more?" 

Nothing.

Frowning, he tried the handle, but it didn't turn. Locked then, but that wasn't unusual- Morgue had a tendency to lock the doors of the rooms she was occupying, saying that it kept innocents out. A little more disturbing, she also tended to say that it kept her in. Locked doors weren't an issue for him, though, since he simply took a shortcut to the other side of the door. It was dark without the lights, making it hard to distinguish anything. He gave her one more chance to respond, just in case she was sleeping- although Morgue was usually a very light sleeper, only seeming to nap instead of actually getting a good night's rest.

"more?" When nothing but silence answered him yet again, he flipped the light on. Morgue was lying on her side under her sheet, facing away from him. Everything looked mostly normal, but... it was ringing every alarm bell he had. If she was simply sleeping, why hadn't he woken her up yet? He'd made more than enough noise. Getting close enough to look over her shoulder only made his apprehension grow. Were her sheets.... glistening? "kiddo....?" His concern grew into actual fear when shaking her shoulder didn't get any response. She was so... cold. Still. Unnaturally so. With awful certainty, he reached over her body and prodded the sheets with a phalange-tip.

The sheets were soaked with blood. 

"aw shit. _EDGE!!!!!!!_ _"_  Sans rolled her over onto her back, propping her legs up, trying to keep her head down so that the remaining blood (if she had any _left)_ pooled there. She... really looked like a corpse. So pale, so cold. Hell, even her lips were blue. The only reason he knew she  _wasn't_ a corpse was because if she had indeed died... she wouldn't still be lying in a pool of her own blood. At least he didn't have to worry about where it all came from- a large crimson stain soaked the front of her tanktop, barely visible against the black. Fuck. After this, he was forbidding her from wearing dark colors ever again, and he was getting her white bedsheets. 

He had stacked all her pillows under her feet and was trying to use the completely-soaked sheets to staunch the bleeding - or at least apply pressure there - when a crack alerted him to Red teleporting in with Edge (finally). 

"major chest wound, extreme blood loss", he bit out, giving up on the sheets as a lost cause and carelessly dumping them to the floor as he stepped out of Edge's way. 

 **"sorry, we stopped t' grab the emergency aid kit.... what happened?"** Red stepped up beside him, looking down at Morgue laid out on the bed like a corpse. 

"i found her curled up on her bed soaked in blood and whiter than our bones. The only reason I know she isn't dead is because she would have Respawned if she was", Sans snarled. Red stared at him, a little shocked. 

 **"dude... i've never heard ya this pissed off."** Sans snorted angrily, watching as Edge finished cleaning up the wound, fingers alight with the green energy of healing magic. There was a large gaping hole in her chest, a type of wound Sans had never seen before. No small knife - no matter how genocidal - had made  _that_. Sans couldn't believe that she had actually gotten home in that condition. His anger that she hadn't  _sought help_  when she had outweighed his disbelief, though.

"she  _promised_ that she'd never pull stupid shit like this again." Sans sighed and went to scrub his face with his hands before realizing that they were covered in blood and staring down in disgust at them. "i thought that meant something." Red made a sympathetic sound and rested his hand on Sans' shoulder. Their attention returned to Edge when he started to sway in place. Red left Sans to gently pull his brother away from Morgue.

 **"enough bro. she's outta the woods. rest- don' burn yoself out tryin' ta heal her more than ya need to."** Sans moved in to take Edge's place, covering the wound with a gauze pad before binding it with a bandage to keep pressure on the wound and the gauze in place. Red continued to talk Edge down as he sat his brother down on Morgue's armchair. The tall skeleton was shaking, but he recovered enough to scoff at his brother's reassurances. Sans rolled his eyes. A Fell would always be a Fell- they'd always act tough, even if they needed help. 

When he was done checking Morgue over - making sure her binding was tight, bandaging the other wounds he found on her, and so forth - Sans picked her up and brought her to his room. There, he cleaned the blood off of her and dressed her in one of his shirts (which was a size too large for either of them) and a pair of his shorts. The shorts were a bit big on her as well, but neither pair of clothing would rub her bandages, and both were clean, a large step up from the blood-soaked clothes he promptly  threw into the trash. Making sure she would be comfortable on his bed (in the unlikely event she woke up anytime soon), Sans returned to Morgue's room and started bundling up her sheets. Everything that had been on the bed with Morgue was rather unsalvageable, and the mattress itself would most likely have to be thrown away, soggy with blood as it was. In the meantime, however, Sans could get started on the sheets. It wasn't like his phalanges weren't already stained with Morgue's blood. He could at least spare Red or Edge the chore (Stretch was watching Blue and Papyrus, once again ensuring that neither innocent was involved). 

 **"... what are ya doin', comic?"** Sans looked at Red, keeping his answer rather perfunctory. Red didn't deserve to have Sans take his anger out on him. He'd just have to wait until Morgue woke up to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing- and to yell at her for not asking for help. In that order. In the meantime, he'd have to have patience. It shouldn't be that hard- it was his main trait, after all. 

"i'm throwing away these sheets since they're utterly ruined. then i'm going to try -  _try_ , mind you - to get the blood out of the carpet. maybe out of the mattress as well, but i think that's a lost cause, too. just look at it- it's squishy with blood. in that case, i'll-" Scarred phalanges took ahold of his own, gripping tighter when he tried to yank his hands away.

 **"enough, sans."**  No matter how hard he tried to pull away, he couldn't- Red was shockingly strong. 

"let me go, red. i'm covered in blood- you'll get dirty too." 

 **"that's a load o' bull and ya know it."** Red's voice gentled. Sans knew that if he looked up into Red's face he'd see that strange, gently empathetic look on his face that either of the Fells seemed to get when of the other brothers had to deal with violence. He knew that his reaction was atypical of him, knew that his experience with resets - especially the more violent ones - was making him low-key panic at the sight of Morgue's blood, that he was looking for things to do, tasks to occupy his mind, that when he stopped he was probably going to break down in a hyperventilating mess- 

 **"c'mon sans. let's go get ya cleaned up. then ya can watch emmy- she shouldn't really be left alone right now, and i'm sure ya have more than a few things ta say ta her when she wakes up, yeah?"** Sans nodded softly, the voice interrupting his spiraling thoughts, letting Red lead him to the bathroom and through the steps of cleaning up. Red had to stop him from trying to scrub his phalanges off, but otherwise they made it through the ordeal and Sans made it into clean clothes. The clothes Sans was wearing nearly went into trash before Red convinced him that they were salvageable. Even then, when they went through the wash, they did so with a little bit of bleach. Eventually, the two skeletons made it into Sans' room, where Red left him alone in favor of going to make sure that Edge was actually resting. 

Sans stood by the side of his bed, looking down on Morgue's face. Like this, she seemed like she was only sleeping. But there was a very real difference between unconsciousness and sleeping. He sat on the mattress edge with a sigh, reaching out and brushing the hair off her forehead. He hesitated a moment, then cupped her cheek with his phalanges. Her skin was soft against his bones. A shiver wracked her body, and Sans' permagrin flattened into a grimmer line. She really was freezing cold, and the blankets didn't seem to be doing very much at all to help. Frowning, he pulled his cellphone out of its' current hiding spot (in the laundry basket of all places- he didn't even use his laundry basket!) and texted Stretch. 

 

 

> **skelepun:  
>  ** hey stretch were u put htblnkts.
> 
>  
> 
> **tol:  
>  ** wat
> 
>  
> 
> **skelepun:**  
>  heatingblankets  
>  do i hav 2 spel evry wrd?
> 
>  
> 
> **tol:  
>  ** u suck at txting
> 
>  
> 
> **skelepun:  
>  ** luk 2 yrself  
>  i need heatingblankets.

 

 

About a minute passed, and Sans was starting to think that Stretch wasn't going to text him back (either having been distracted or fallen asleep) when there was a crack and the tallest skeleton appeared in the middle of his room holding a bundle of blankets. Sans blinked at him in astonishment. Stretch's worried expression melted into his more normal lazy smirk. 

"what are you doing in my room, stretch?"

"you texted me in a full sentence. with proper grammar. i thought there was an emergency. why'd ya come to me for the heating blankets? why not fell or Blue?" Sans snorted.

"it's 'cuz you always horde them all, you big loafer. now gimme." Stretch snickered, but behind the lazy smart-ass grin, he could see that the tall skeleton really had been worried. His suspicions were validated a moment later when the grin flattened into something more serious. 

"what's going on, comic?" 

"gimme the blankets, and you'll see," Sans sighed. Stretch handed them over and Sans moved to carefully cover Morgue with them. When he turned back after plugging in the blanket, Stretch was standing at his spot by the bed and watching Morgue. He looked up at Sans wearing the closest thing to a frown Sans had ever seen on him.

"what the fuck happened, comic? she looks like hell." Sans took a steadying breath before he snapped at the taller skeleton. He had to remind himself that Stretch was just as concerned about Morgue as he was.

"then you shoulda fucking seen her earlier." Stretch looked shocked, either because of the angry snarl he couldn't keep out of his voice or because Morgue (although much better than she had been) still looked pretty damn bad. 

"i don't think i've ever heard you angry enough to swear before, dude." Sans gave a short laugh that didn't actually have anything to do with humor. 

"funny. that's what red said earlier." Even Sans could hear the bite in his retort.

There was a moment of silence before Sans sighed, deflating a bit, rubbing his face with his metacarpals.

"sorry. that was- i didn't mean to-" He startled a bit when a hand came down on his skull, nearly engulfing it, but the hand merely rubbed the top of his head gently, searching out and finding the spot that made him nearly melt with practiced ease.

"it's okay, Sans." The shock of hearing his given name from an alternate of his brother was muted by the warm melting feeling of the phalanges rubbing his skull. "it's okay," Stretch repeated again. "you're okay. your bro's okay. we're not underground anymore. it's okay to be honest about your feelings. there's no longer a need to dissimulate." Sans didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. The contentment that came from the hand rubbing his skull was overwhelming his negative emotions before they had a chance to start, muddling his mind and making it hard to think of  _why_ he needed to... to not... he couldn't...

Tears started rolling down his face, and Stretch suddenly found his femurs engulfed in a desperately tight hold as the crying skeleton collided with them. He stared down at the top of Comic's skull in wonder. Comic was theoretically his own Sans' counterpart from the Alpha Universe, but Stretch rarely saw his lil' bro as similar to Comic. This was the first time he had ever seen  _Comic_ act like  _Blueberry_. He found it... endearing. It triggered all of his 'big brother' instincts, so he scooped up Comic and sat on the edge of the bed with him, cradling the distraught skeleton in his lap. They sat like that for while, until Sans had fallen asleep. Stretch cuddles him for a bit longer.

"you really need to start communicating with us, comic," he murmured against the sleeping skeletons' skull before laying him on his back against the still sleeping human. He covered the pair in a second blanket, tucking them in and turning the lights off and turning back at the door. All he could see was the faint reflection of the hallway lights on Morgue's skin and Comic's skull. "g'night guys," he called softly before withdrawing, leaving the door cracked so that he and the other skeletons could keep an eye on the occupants. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Sans (rather, all of the olderbrothers) suffer from PTSD over the resets. All that human blood and thinking that the young human in question was going to die... ran Comic's emotions rather high and stressed him out rather badly. 
> 
> I've been toying with the idea of combining all the little one- or two-shots of this series into one big book. I'm not entirely sure how I would go about doing that. The book would only be for the 1Morgue 6Skele house in Undererased, and (eventually, hopefully) will not be the only book in the series. 
> 
> Like always, please:  
> Rate and Review!  
> Critique and Comment!  
> and so on.


End file.
